Parchments Poems

The Journey Within

I drew a charcoal rendering
      of your face
on the cave wall of my mind
You were taken from me long ago
I visit this cave when I am asleep
When the world is still and I am alone
and I crawl into my mind's lonely realm
      I carry a lantern
        burning from memories of you
To light the way to the jewels of our days
      and poetic parchments I gave to your heart
containing the written words of our love
Here in the shadows, I cry each night
beneath my charcoal rendering
      drawn from memory
When you vanished from Earth, you merged with my soul
      remembering the days we had
I raise my lantern as high as I need
      I'll stay as long as I can, 
So I may see your face once again

If I had met you in another age, when time flowed more slowly and solemnly

If I had met you in another age, when time flowed more slowly and solemnly,
I would have written your name in vivid ink, on parchment that preserves eternally,
I would have escaped to secret libraries, where silence embraces stories,
On the margins of old volumes, I would have laid down my devotion.
But here we are, in this age of screens that silently shine,
Where affections are mute, yet my soul recognizes your rhythm,
Even now, when the cold light surrounds us like a foreign mist,
The bond between us transcends time, a secret dance of hearts.
In the flow of thoughts, I feel how time trickles like a quiet river,
Every moment with you is an eternity engraved in pure gold,
The world seems to forget the magic of words written on old parchments,
But we find each other, two souls traveling through endless ages.
Even in this century of technology and pointless noise,
Our souls meet, vibrating at the same eternal frequency,
Love and devotion are not bound by time or fleeting form,
But by that deep connection that finds its way to the light.

In its silence, my love sings softly

In its silence, my love sings softly,
Like an autumn wind that gently caresses the slow-moving leaves,
Without grand ideals or hidden violence,
Just a deep stillness that embraces unspoken words.
There's no need to swear allegiance on gilded parchments,
For its truth is pure, like ice sparkling under the sun,
And like the fire smoldering quietly in the depths of the soul,
People hold roses in trembling hands.
They weave promises like a spider's web,
Fragile and ephemeral in the face of fleeting time,
And my love laughs, like flowers opening at dawn,
With a simple joy that cannot be bought.
In the depths of its gaze, endless stories are born,
A world without borders or barriers of time and space,
Words are lost in the silence that speaks deeply,
While my love floats, a melancholic dream.

Symbolic

Once envoys carried messages, betwixt those Royal thrones of Kings.
 Scrolls of vellum parchments, all bearing wax insignia, impressed with signet rings.
 These symbols of authenticity, made safe passage, through far flung foreign fields.
 Where chivalry of gallant knights gave sanctuary, armed with swords and shields.
 While Kings and Queens spoke of those deeds, by proclamation, made them law.
 Preventing bloodshed needlessly, upon battlefields of war.
 Once, candle flames on red wax, and signet rings, were used in days gone by.
 Now those documents of state are stamped, by die and counter die.
 Where independance from the past, the President holds sway.
 This National Symbol of the United States, hangs proudly on display.

The Vein of the Quill

Inkwells,
vein of the Quills,
scribing upon parchments,
heavy laden with dark secrets,
blotted


Date: 23/04/23
Traditional Cinquain poetry contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet

From the Deep

For the record,
Archives of the soul,
Parchments of remembrance,
Notes from yesterday,
Diary of memories,
Chapbook of tomorrow.



September 6, 2022.
Bitesize Poem No. 52 Poetry Contest, 
Line Gauthier.

Ode To An Ode

Oh words, such words, so highly prized
Tuned melody of mindfulness
Entwined in raucous revelry
You cause all present to feign blush.
Casting petals of pure praise
Love’s scented aura on display.

Echoes haunt the pendulum of time
As season’s dim the memory of youth
Passersby still nod – subtle salute
homage paid with quiet hearts not hands.
Those with ungrayed heads must wonder why
A hush ensues upon your passing bye.

Oh, words, pure words, unsullied song
That lingers on the lips after you are gone
For age has dulled the pen but not the mien
Carried over time the yellowed scene
Of glory etched upon a parchments face
A eulogy that time cannot erase.

John G. Lawless
©5/7/2021

John's Complaint

. for public domain

Along a North Bay windowsill,
lay parchments crumbled, void of script,
a heart entombed with heartless feeling,
no fitting place to lay Love's crypt.

Bury Love with a sigh or a tear,
wail out echoes through desolate canyons,
haunt dark castles and chill woody glens,
strike the souls of our errant companions.

But silence Love without a word?
The very thought is so absurd,
it should be criminal! Twenty lashes!
No. Thirty! --- Villain! BEAST!

Life's poor imitation at least!
This pretense of loss shows no love at all.
Lost Love deserves a page so much better
than poor lack of script in a blank crumbled letter.

Kiss of True Bliss

Images of middle ages and emperors rough and bold,
dwellings in mountain valleys centuries old.
In the court yard of the castle there sat the poet,
rhyming for the landlord all praises know to suit.
His living grace depend on his applause,
coins in silky parchments and its cause.
Honoring that curious nature to explore,
happy that he knows no more.
A bored and bold lady of state attend,
witty wrapped to passion decadent. 
To mock the poets ambition as useless toil,
her charm and etiquette in disdainful smile.
Attentions and all its trophies praise,
critics and fretted faults from face to face.
The prophet rich with spoils from the celestial serene,
many flowers in dew born to blush unseen.
The lady and her maiden in mingled measure,
how to tenderize that secret dome of pleasure.
The banquet in full swing under full moon prime,
vain and conspiracies amid the boundless main. 
Ladies and nectars of amnesia in full amour of delusion,
the wise man in sober wait, giving the lords conclusion.

‘The mortal eye in easy come bliss, 
denying magical natures eternal kiss’.

The Payment

When in the dark of heated greed,
There was a shock, a unemployed face.
It had whispered of bad weather,
A storm of flashing commerce.
Parchments expanding the stain of green,
By the light of reflecting fleash.
Man has power in dollers,
Captilism mentaly teases the masses.
Encourging the action of fantsy.
A dream exposed for payments.
Desire in the bare undernieth.
To the Devil and the one percent.
But I to, in my sweet sigh,
Of my Shakspear gaze,
For that strangle of golden lights.
The price is,
The pound of fleash.

A Poet's Pen

Through depths of time,
A love sublime.
Stars breathed,
Wheat sheathed.
A poet's rhyme

Tucked within a beating heart,
A stanza rises, seeds impart.
Pour out, it feeds.
A poet's needs.

Voices silenced to the earth,
A life was lived, a soul was birthed.
Their voices echo no where near,
The living in this atmosphere,

And yet they breathe!
On parchments, sheaths,
In poetry books,
Or cozy nooks.

Through writer's pens,
They live again,
Their words impart,
Seeds to a heart.

Through time and space...
The human race,
Though dried ink well,
No one can quell,
The voices of sages
In print through the ages.

What do you have in your hand?
A pen! You cry, I understand.
Take it up, and throw it down
Those words in you, are loosed unbound.

Never silenced, err again.
Pick it up my precious friend.
Let flow the words, and write them down,
The words of life, a poet's crown.

You seek a sign,
Well that is fine.
A staff? A Snake?
It wasn't fake.

What's in your hand?
A scepter grand?
A sling, a stone,
An old jaw bone?

A gift, a pen,
Use it again.
A tool, an art
Straight from your heart.

Often As a Storyteller

OFTEN AS A STORYTELLER

Quite often as this storyteller bloke,
I like to play on words,
Seeing if it makes me to be,
In a sense of being
A wordy kind of fella,
Or am I just a plain 
And ordinary wordsmith;
As the user and the chooser
Of what I put down
On the finest parchments found.
And then there is you see
As it escapes from me;
In short intervals be,
Many tales of sad,
And many tales of glad,
Told by someone
Of the olde school brand.
For I have come to realize
That of the many journeys made,
In order to relate
And wise wisdom words put on down,
In order to bless;
For there is another thirsty soul,
Awaiting, awaiting!
Therefore, I am at an age
It is a privilege to have attained,
To be a narrator so,
A teller of this man’s past; 
And hopefully bless
A listener with me words.
And as we so do sit;
Around the campfires of life,
Where flickering embers glow
And sparks dance their last request,
Therefore, as we depart
And go our separate ways,
As you the receiver have listened,
‘Bout the many journeys made,
Coming from deep within
And from the soul,
Of this bush balladeer bloke….

Francis Cooper - Mac

Beauty In Transition

When autumn’s breezes in celebration,
send colored parchments swirling, curling down;
my heart sings in humbled adoration,
as nature’s palette, dons new dressing gown.

As chill winds visit I crave my slumber;
all animals in deep hibernation,
have stored food to quell chilled winter’s hunger;
each one harbor’s his own needed ration.

Colored puzzle pieces, they dot the land,
to warm Gaia’s, soon hibernating breast.
Part of a higher, elaborate plan,
like humans, Earth needs, her deep, winter rest.

Soon icy stars will be filtering down from
periwinkle skies where snow clouds are hung.


11-13-19
Favourite Poem from November 2019 Poetry Contest
 Julia Ward

Bejeweled

Entwining ropes,
parchments unfurled
upon fertile ground;
opaque pendants
caress the vine;
a burden
earned in the
effulgent sun rays.
semi-precious 
and bejeweled fields,
of concord
ecstasy;
Mother Nature’s 
offspring.

Metaphor Contraptions

And the greatest poems were made
By hearts so tired and blue
To catch a name
From smiles so bright and true

Words from hollowed pieces
Are weaved to fit in
To create bridges
Between the heart and death's curtain

Emotions penned deeply
On parchments and skin
Veering away finally
From minds struck with pins

Someday these words may 
Turn into eternal hymns
That though peril come its way
It'll grant us dreams

t.h.

• Short Parchments Poems
• Famous Parchments Poems
• Best Parchments Poems
• Read Parchments Poems
• Long Parchments Poems
• Parchments Quotes